kaleidoscope eyes
by in cages
Summary: he's just another victim. —dracoluna


**A/N: **Okay, so this is just a cheesy one-shot with my favourite pairing. I got the inspiration from that part in the movie (DH2) where Draco's standing in the courtyard and you can just see Luna in the background giving him _that look_. You know the one that's like "DO THE RIGHT THING DRACO!" yeah, that. Also, I also got the idea from Panic!'s song Kaleidoscope eyes, which is what all that rambling is about from Draco (also due to his loss of blood). He may seem OCC, but I'm going to put that down to the loss of the blood and how sad and lonely and all that he is in DH2.

Yeah, enjoy. :)

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><p><strong>Kaleidoscope Eyes.<strong>

_Kaleidoscope eyes, sparkle at the world  
>my emerald city, downtown girl.<em>

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><p>"Let me help you."<p>

Draco started at the sudden interruption, his head snapping up and his wild grey eyes staring up at the person who had just spoken to him. In any other situation, he would of told her to leave him alone, and he didn't need _her _help. But who was he to deny somebodies kindred spirit after his wrong-doings? Where did he get off telling someone to go away after everything he had done?

Instead of barking a biting retort, the boy simply nodded stiffly.

Luna Lovegood knelt down so her wispy blue eyes were level with his cold grey ones. Luna sported her usual faraway smile, even in the middle of a war and Draco had absolutely no idea how she managed to do it. Even after three consecutive months locked up inside his cellar, she never cried- never begged or pleaded. He would go down there sometimes, just to check and she'd be smiling.

Always smiling, that Lovegood.

Her soot-covered hands sought out his shaking left one. Draco hadn't planned on patching up the gash that started on his palm and ventured right to the centre of his forearm. In fact, he had just been staring at it. Watching as his own blood trickling out, waiting for his body clock to chime and end. A morbid thought, really, but Draco thought that death would be preferable over Voldemort winning.

Luna's dainty fingers ghosted over his palm, she was chewing her lip and seemingly in deep concentration. Draco clamped his eyes shut and tried his utmost to close off the war around them, happening probably only yards _from _them. He had never thought he'd be found in an abandon classroom, _but _he thought, vaguely amused, _leave it up to Lovegood to find me. _

"Why have you not healed this, Draco?" The soft edge to her voice made the insides of Draco's stomach churn uncomfortably. Why wasn't she taking advantage of his state? If it had been any of the others from that stupid Dumbledore's Army, he'd probably be under the Cruciatus Curse by now. But not Luna. Never Luna. And for what reasons, it was lost on Draco.

She, out of almost everyone (aside from Potter), should surely hate him the most. His family had locked her up in a dungeon for almost three months, threatened to take her life on numerous occasions, barely fed her, tortured her for information- the lot. And yet, here sat this same girl, analysing his wound and holding his left hand in both of hers like it was a delicate flower; similar to the ones she'd wear in Hogwarts.

Draco opened his eyes again turning to Luna. "I don't know," was his feeble response. And he didn't really, not wholly, anyway. Draco hated getting hurt, being scathed or anything along those lines. He didn't like anything marring his body- nothing that made him look ugly or inferior or even weak (though, he _was _and always _had _been weak). But when would he ever admit that?

Luna frowned, she didn't frown often, so Draco assumed it wasn't a good thing. "You might have lost a lot of blood," she said. "Here-" Luna took the ribbon out of her hair, the tresses of haystack blonde tumbling down her waist, each curl bounced a little and framed her face. Draco had never realised how much Luna Lovegood had grown up until now.

His eyes travelled from her face, a face he used to laugh at and tease, towards her shoulders where her top was ripped and stained with hers or whoever else's blood. Then he found her waist, she had definitely gotten her diet back after her imprisonment in his Manor (and every time Draco thought about that, he inwardly cringed). Luna was still small, but she was so very mature now.

Draco almost resented her for being so happy and grown up. He wished he could be happy and grown up, not some snivelling kid who was too afraid to say no, too much of a coward to stand up to his father. And more importantly, too much of a pathetic excuse for man- sitting in a dark room and hiding away from a war that he was a part of, to escape his own fate.

What Draco wouldn't give to have Luna's ability to see the world through her kaleidoscope eyes, never was her vision black and white- like his, and so many others. She could twirl and sing and skip through her kaleidoscope eyes and not give a damn if someone (namely, _him_) was laughing. And back then, he had no sodding idea why she did it...

But now, now Draco realised why she did it. Luna Lovegood saw the world in multiple colours because she _could. _She saw everyone through eyes of understanding and love and affection. Nobody seemed to grasp it at the time, but Draco could grasp it so well now. Her world was a world Draco sorely wished he could see, too. He wanted to see colours, he wanted to smile and really _fucking _mean it for once.

And hell, he wanted to fall in love with these colours, and with a girl who could see them right from the start.

"Draco," Luna's voice brought him out of his stupor, his eyes caught hers again. "Are you feeling okay? You looked like you'd fallen asleep, I suspect you've lost quite a large quantity of blood."

He blinked a few times until his bleary-eyes came back to focus, Luna's hands were still clutching his own but now there was her ribbon wrapped around his palm. Her index finger trailed up his forearm and she frowned once again.

"Who did this?"

Draco snorted. "Dolohov."

He watched as her transparent blue eyes assessed the rest of his wound. Draco allowed her to wipe up the blood from his arm, and after she'd tended to the blood, Luna tore a piece of fabric from her already tattered blue top and wrapped it around his arm.

"I'm sorry I couldn't heal it magically," Luna said gently. "It's too deep for any of my magic to heal, but... it's not too late, Draco."

He imagined himself asking Voldemort to put his arm right, the very thought sent a cold shiver down his spine and a dry and humourless laugh to escape his cracked lips. Draco knew full well he couldn't return back to the Death Eaters, as he'd been seen with Potter and his merry band of gits, not to mention... _Crabbe_. How would he even begin to explain _that?_

_Oh, by the way Mr. and Mrs. Crabbe, your son died in the Room of Requirement... I did my best to save him but he didn't make it. Did I mention Potter saved my sorry arse? No? Well, here's the heroic story..._

_No, _Draco snarled at his own inward thoughts. S_top thinking about Crabbe._

"It's fine," Draco replied dryly, staring down at his patched up arm. "Why are you doing this, Lovegood? It's not exactly like I've been kind to you in the past, or ever for that matter." Draco narrowly avoided looking at her as he asked this vital question. Perhaps the loss of blood was making him delusional _and _irrational, but for now, he just wanted to know why Luna, of all people, was helping _him. _A Death Eater (though, now probably _ex_-Death Eater), someone who played the main role of bullying her in Hogwarts, and lets not forget keeping her captive in his house.

Luna didn't seem thrown off at all by his toneless question, she shifted into a more comfortable position (her hands still holding his left one) and sighed dreamily. Draco allowed her to think over the question, as he wanted to delay leaving the classroom for as long as possible. And maybe, just perhaps, he wanted Luna to stay with him, too.

"I suppose because," she began, licking her lips and smiling that captivating smile of hers. "I believe that everyone deserves a second chance," he thought that was her only explanation, he should have known it wouldn't of been, "and you, Draco Malfoy, were never given any choice in the matter. Yes, I guess you were never kind to me in school, but who _was_?"

She had a point, Draco mused.

"It wasn't until I met Harry that I truly believed somebody cared. And it's nice to know somebody cares," Luna carried on, talking in that delicate voice that reminded Draco of a nymph. "And I care about _you, _Draco, however mean you may _have _been, something tells me that you've grown up."

For a moment, Draco wasn't sure he'd heard the girl properly, but when her eyes sparkled, realisation hit him like a brick to the face.

He'd never heard anyone say they care about him, not in such a heartfelt and genuine way like Luna had, anyway.

But why should she care for him? "Why?" Draco managed to choke out, feeling like the cat had his tongue and was holding it hostage. Or maybe that was his loss of blood, again?

Luna tilted her head, Draco was surprised to see bare ears- _where are those ridiculous radish earrings? _"Why not."

It was that completely offhanded and typically Luna-esque reply that made Draco uncharacteristically laugh out loud. Luna simply stared at him with her blue bug-eyes whilst he tried to control his mirth, it was causing him a lot of pain, but he honestly found Luna to be such an oddity. She was seeing him through her kaleidoscope eyes, he presumed.

Draco wondered what he looked like in colours, instead of his customary bland black and white.

"You, Luna Lovegood, are quite honestly the strangest girl I've ever met," was all Draco said. Luna seemed more than a little bit pleased by this as she beamed at him, causing a tight knot to form inside his chest.

"In the dictionary, the definitions for strange are: usual, extraordinary, curious and odd. So thank you, Draco."

He had no way to reply to that, she honestly knew how to render him absolutely speechless. She had just managed to take an insult and turn it into a compliment. Draco didn't know many people who could do that as successfully as Luna Lovegood could.

A sudden need to apologize to Luna for keeping her captive was overwhelming, it made his gut ache and his conscious was plowing away in his head, telling him to do it. He'd never said sorry and really meant it before, was he really capable of doing it?

Draco turned to face Luna, he took his left hand out of her grip, which didn't seem to bother Luna as much as it bothered Draco. But with that left hand that was wrapped up in a ribbon, he placed it upon her cut left cheek and eyed her with curiosity.

Who'd of thought war could bring these two together? Not in a million years had Draco ever thought he'd be sat with Luna in a dark room, during a war, with both their lives in danger, with his cut up hand on her own cut up cheek- about to say the next words.

"I'm sorry."

**xxx**

Draco's chest was so tangled up, he was sure his intestines were now cuddling up with his bladder and his heart was having an affair with his pancreas. _How could this happen? _His panic stricken mind was tearing away at him. _How could Potter be dead? _Sure enough, Harry Potter the infamous Boy-Who-Lived, was now The-Boy-Who-Died. Draco was never a fan of Potter, obviously, but good Merlin, he had put so much faith in the boy defeating Voldemort.

And here, he laid in that oaf Hagrid's arms, dead, dead, _bloody _dead. All of Draco's worries and anxieties came at him with the force of a Firebolt. After he'd apologized to Luna, she'd reassured him that Potter would win, and now she was wrong.. he was wrong, _everyone _was wrong. Because Potter didn't win, and now Voldemort was prancing around the courtyard because he'd killed the famous Harry Potter.

Draco felt Luna's presence behind him, not close enough for him to touch, though. She kept her distance, but he'd personally asked her to stand near him, be close enough for him to know she was there, but not enough for him to reach- to feel. Just the idea that Luna still believed in him, even though Potter was dead, was enough to squash down on a few worries.

But not enough for the sweat and the shaking of his hands to subside. His forehead was with thick perspiration, making him feel itchy and nervous. Damp and dishevelled hair obstructed some of his vision, but he could still see exactly what was going on.

The hand Luna had bandaged was clenched inside his suit pocket, he was scared that if he took it out he'd use it to hit someone. Anyone, any_thing. _Maybe he'd even try his luck at taking on Voldemort-

_Fat chance, coward, _Draco's inner-voice scathingly shot back.

Draco could see his useless excuse for a father, the man stood on the opposite end of the spectrum- his fathers half being dark, the winners, whilst where Draco stood was light- the losers. It seemed that whatever team Draco was on, he was always a loser.

Lucius Malfoy found his sons eyes in the crowd of students and teachers alike, Draco knew his father would be furious that Draco was standing there.

"Draco,"

It wasn't loud, but everyone heard.

Everyone heard his father calling him. At that moment, Draco wished the ground would swallow him whole, eat him alive- _hell_, he'd even prefer to be feasted on by Nagini. Draco shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but made no action to move fowards. Instead, he moved back just a few feet, so he was almost parallel with Luna.

Here he felt safe, he felt protected. His clenched fist came out of his pocket, slowly Draco circled his hand round Luna's. His feet firm on the ground. His breathing hard. His eyes frantically searching for an escape for himself and Luna.

"_Draco,_" this time, Lucius voice was firmer, more authorative but it only made Draco want to step back further. He remebered this voice from when he was younger, it was laced with caution and warning. His father would use this voice before he shouted and screamed and bellowed at Draco.

There was no way in bloody hell he'd be moving now.

The whole courtyard was deadly silent and Draco knew that almost everyone was waiting for his reaction, waiting for the moment when Draco Malfoy gave into his father and walked across the courtyard back to the Death Eaters side. But the feel of this girls hand within his own, was quite possibly the only thing keeping him from running back there, grovelling and asking for a second chance.

Luna was his hope when all other hope was lost.

His girl with the kaleidoscope eyes. His girl who saw colours, not just a blank canvas. His girl who he fell for because she cared. _His girl._

"Draco," the pain in Draco's heart was almost unbearable. His mothers voice floated across the courtyard, "come."

Draco swallowed the lump the size of a hippogriff in his throat; he had two options- the first being, completely ignore his parents and stay put with Luna... the second was to leave with his mother and potentially never see Luna again.

Both of these options made Draco feel a little woozy. He'd never had to make such difficult decisions before, all of his decisions were made _for _him and now he had to _choose _and it wasn't fair because he loved his mother, and Luna was well, _Luna._ He turned to glance at her, her eyes were glittering, her hand in his was warm. Luna's thumb was tracing circles against his rough war-torn skin.

She tilted her head, her eyes shining and her lips slightly parted and Draco realised what she'd meant earlier: _it's not too late. _

Draco felt her small hand squeeze his, and then he left her side and joined his mother. They left left without a glance back.

**xxx**

Luna sat upon the Great Hall floor, her eyes taking in the scenes of the fallen soldiers. Harry wasn't dead, and now Voldemort was gone forever. Luna felt her stomach bubble up at the idea of the end of war.

Neville sat down next to her, he smiled down at her and Luna smiled warmly back. She felt completely at ease, although a part of her (and she wasn't sure which) was a little bit torn up by Draco leaving. But she knew he'd do the right thing, she had faith in him because everybody needs someone to love. And maybe, just maybe, Luna's love from one evening would give him the opportunity to feel it for once.

Luna liked to hope that was what he felt- love. Not soppy love or undying love, but warm and fuzzy love. The feeling that someone gets when they know they have someone to count on; a shoulder to rest on; a hand to hold; and a friend to confide in. Luna wanted Draco to have this, and she felt positive that he received it. Although it would of been nice to see Draco again, she knew that it probably wasn't possible.

"Are you okay, Luna?" Neville asked in that concerned voice, a half-frown etched into his features.

Luna turned to him and blinked. "I'm perfectly lovely, Neville."

"Yes, you are."

_Wait, that's not Neville's voice, _Luna realised with a start that the voice had come from behind her. She swirled round and was met with Draco, his mother a few yards behind them, a tight lipped smile upon her lips.

Her heart gave a tremendous jump start without her permission.

"Draco," she said breathlessly, annoyed by how girly she sounded. "What are you doing here?"

"My mother wanted to meet the girl who nursed me back to health," he said tonelessly, then he leaned in, completely ignoring Neville and everyone else and whispered. "And how could I not say goodbye?"


End file.
